


OUTCAST

by skuntank



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuntank/pseuds/skuntank
Summary: Do you love ya boy? Of course you do! He's the biggest and baddest there is! And he's never bigger and badder than as the star of Outcast. In this story, this threatening, unhinged and multi-faceted version is a full three course meal. So gather round the throne and grovel before the boss.





	OUTCAST

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter was inspired by dietofwurm's fic "Beasts and Beauties," which you should read if you have not done so already. Please be aware that OUTCAST is not that fic, nor do I intend to borrow so heavily on it in the future. This is our starting point. Enjoy.

A child screamed.  
  
The high, white walls were on fire, their smoke rising to the heavens in a cloud of hate. People shoved against one another, desperate to escape. Recoiled, stumbled when they found none. An elderly woman fell down and was crushed beneath the horde. Above the frantic cries were jeers and laughter. Men and women and those against the binary steered the crowd with weapons and Pokémon, their faces covered with black bandanas, and forced the residents out of the town.  
  
They left in twos and threes and then all of them at once, struggling, crying, shouting for loved ones. The camera panned to the renegades as their laughter intensified. Suddenly the camera jerked, the view jolting from the mob and to the scowling face of a man whose eyes were hidden beneath mismatched sunglasses. There was a skirmish and a cry of pain off-screen. The picture re-focused on the ravaged town.  
  
“Ladies an’ gentleman, boys an’ girls of _all_ ages,” a man’s voice began, his deep voice lilting into a song. “Welcome t’ Po Town. Over here we got your high walls t’ keep th’ riff-raff out,” he pointed the camera at the scorched walls, “an’ over there we got your pristine lawns,” the picture was directed towards nearby houses whose lawns were trampled and caked with mud, “an’ if ya haven’t guessed by now, it’s under new management. Ain’t that right?” He pointed the camera over his shoulder. The rebels in black whooped and hollered behind him.  
  
He turned the camera on himself. His smile was wicked. “Name’s Guzma. An’ I’m here t’ make your lives hell.”  
  
The picture turned black. The television displayed static in greys and whites and noise, and a moment later Hala turned the old thing off. When Po Town fell, the estranged populace nearly rioted. There were too many thugs, too little police. And the person behind the attack, rumors said, was a tall man with a hulking Golisopod. Guzma. Rumors spread, as all rumors do, that the police crumpled immediately once he showed, that they fell back and let the town get taken. The attack was hushed up. The townspeople’s voices were quieted.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
Hala looked gravely around the room. In a hastily-arranged fashion of assorted chairs, including one well-worn couch and an ottoman, the kahunas and trial captains from each island sat in a haphazard circle in Hala’s home on Melemele Island. They murmured in hush whispers to one another. They were all there save for Mina, he noted, although he refrained from comment on whether they wanted to be or not. Nanu’s bored, impassive expression said more than Hala would have liked. Hala noticed the others left an empty chair for Poni Island’s unelected kahuna.  
  
They fidgeted nervously, waiting for him to say something. Hala could not refrain himself any longer. He cleared his throat and said, “I have called you here today to discuss the gang called Team Skull.”  
  
“That all?” muttered Nanu. “And here I thought you’d invited us to a picnic.”  
  
“There’s food in the pantry if you’re hungry. Help yourself.” Hala waved him off irritably, keeping his rising temper in check. This was not the time for in-fighting.  
  
“Think I might.”  
  
Nanu got up and went to the back of the room, to the pantry. It went silent save for his shuffling. Hala took a moment to recompose himself before continuing. The young captains looked at him earnestly. “Our islands have been in confusion since they took over Po Town,” he went on. “What our people have been asking is ‘why?’ The town was a gated community, and yet it fell in a single night. ‘How could this happen?’ they ask me. I have yet to answer them.”  
  
“I’ll tell you how it happened,” Kiawe said darkly. He jabbed a finger towards Nanu. “ _His_ people failed to do their job. You’re a cop, aren’t you? How come you didn’t do anything about it?”  
  
Nanu poured a cup of steaming coffee into his cup. End-it-all black, just the way he liked it. “Retired, kid,” he replied. He didn’t look up. “It’s not my problem.”  
  
Kiawe stood, his feet slamming on the ground. “Not your problem? You’re a _kahuna_ —”  
  
Hala rubbed his temples. This wasn’t going to be an easy discussion. “Settle down. This is no time to point fingers. Po Town fell, Team Skull took over, and now we must be the ones who do what the police will not.” There was a murmur of agreement. He shared a glance with Nanu, who merely shrugged and sat himself down in a comfortable red armchair. Propping one leg over his knee, he nonchalantly sipped his drink.  
  
“Should this gang be left to their own accord, all of Alola is at risk,” Hala continued. Kiawe reluctantly sank back into his seat. “Something must be done, but what? So I ask each of you now: what would you do if Po Town was your home? Olivia?”  
  
The young woman tapped a painted fingernail to her pink lips. “I wouldn’t stand for it,” she said.  
  
“Neither would I,” Kiawe asserted in his booming voice. “This ‘Team Skull’ has got to go.”  
  
“In my travels to Kalos, I learned many things. My _professeur,_ the esteemed Sycamore, told me of the terrible misdeeds of Flare.” Ilima leaned forward in his seat. “They had a weapon unlike any other. The professor showed me the ruins caused by that organization’s hand. _Monsieur_ Sycamore tried to defend this Lysandre, saying he was a philanthropist, but to me, he was a bad man. He had the means to end it all, and he nearly went through with it. No more. Something must be done.”  
  
“Hala, are you sure the police won’t help?” Acerola asked nervously. She glanced at the other captains. “We could always ask—”  
  
“Waste of time,” Nanu said, interrupting. “They won’t do a damn thing. It’s up to us. I guess.” He took sip of his coffee.  
  
Hala cleared his throat, but it was Lana who spoke up. “Could be we sick Kyogre on them. Splash. Bye-bye, Team Skull.”  
  
“Oh, Lana, you’re such a kidder!” laughed Mallow. She was the only one who was smiling.  
  
Kiawe scowled. “Mallow. This is serious.”  
  
“I know that!”  
  
Molayne nodded. “Something should be done about them. Our islands are in danger. I say we take them out at their source. Without Guzma, his gang will crumble into pieces. We have the children to think about. What if something happened to Soffy?” Sophocles snapped out of his doze and into attention at the mention of his name. Molayne wrapped a protective arm around his cousin.  
  
Nanu sipped his coffee. “Kid’s a captain now. Should be able to take care of himself.” He glanced over at the blond. “He don’t need you babying him.”  
  
“I’m just trying to help—”  
  
“You’re suffocating him.” Nanu’s gaze was piercing. “You’re not a captain anymore. Why are you here?”  
  
“Soffy needs my—I’m the only one here who knows Guzma! I know what he’s capable of!”  
  
“Kid, look at Po Town. We all do.”  
  
“That’s enough!” Nanu turned to face his fellow kahuna. Hala shot a glare at Nanu before looking deep into everyone else’s eyes. “Ilima has the right of it. There have been villains all throughout the other countries. Each one has brought destruction upon the regions. When Tapu Bulu struck down Ka’ehu, I thought our troubles were over.” His face turned sour. “Guzma has changed all that.”  
  
“So what’s going to happen?” asked Acerola.  
  
Kiawe turned to her. “Isn’t it obvious? We must fight fire with fire. That’s all these gangs know. I say we give them what they want: a fight.”  
  
“We could fight back,” Ilima reflected.  
  
Lana struck her fist to her palm. “Pow.”  
  
Nanu rolled his eyes. Olivia shot him a dark look. “It’s the obvious thing to do. We go in, show them what we kahunas—and captains—are made of. The gym leaders of the other regions stayed put. They did _nothing_. I, for one, refuse to do nothing. Alola is my home. I’m not going to sit back and watch Team Skull destroy it.”  
  
There was a murmur of agreement; even Hala looked pleased by her statement. Now it was Nanu’s turn to laugh. All eyes turned to him.  
  
Olivia frowned. “Do you disagree?”  
  
“What gave you that idea?” Nanu waited, the corners of his lips twitching into a smirk.  
  
It was silent for more than a minute. Everyone stared at one other, not wanting to speak or get involved with Nanu any more than they had to. What had to be done? What could be done? He was certain that those thoughts prowled through each of their heads. Kiawe and Molayne glared at him when they noticed his stare. Nanu shrugged. He didn’t care what they thought of him. He did what had to be done. And now… well, he’d do what he always did.  
  
Ilima spoke up, breaking the tension. His posture was stiff. “Then what do you think we should do, Nanu?” he asked. “I’d like to hear your thoughts.”  
  
Nanu heaved a sigh. “All right, kids, let me explain something to you.” He shifted positions in his seat. He disliked being the center of attention, but he’d since given up as far as that was concerned. He gave each of the captains a hard look before turning to Hala and Olivia. “What you’re asking for isn’t possible.”  
  
“And why not?” Kiawe blurted.  
  
Mallow’s face turned the color of sour milk. “Wh-what do you mean?”  
  
“This fight you want to bring, this _war,_ will accomplish nothing.”  
  
“Why is that, Nanu?”  
  
The old cop turned to Hala. He was getting too old for this shit. “You want to know what I think? I’ll tell you.” Nanu looked at each of the people in the room as he spoke. “Going after them is a crappy idea. Imagine. You and your teams, you all get together. You invade, fight Team Skull. People get hurt. Pokémon get hurt. Yours, theirs, it don’t matter. Sometimes they die. But you win, and the gang leaves. But where will they go?”  
  
His stare hardened, and his voice grew cold. “Here’s what happens. They come back, harder and stronger than before. The man is out to get them, they cry. So they go somewhere else. Terrorize that town. So you go back, chase ‘em out again. And again. And again. Next thing you know, all of Alola’s in ruins.” He took a deep breath. “If you fight an eye for an eye, the whole world will be blind. So you tell me.”  
  
The tension in the room rose to extremes. No one could look at him. The young captains fidgeted in their seats, and the kahunas shared a knowing look.  
  
“We don’t know much about this gang. They rose up, took over. Bit of thievery here, bit of mischief there. Tagging, harassment, property damage, Skull’s done it,” Nanu said. He crossed his other leg over his knee. “Seems to me they’re a bunch of kids in need of a good time-out.”  
  
Oliva wasn’t impressed. “They took over a town,” she hissed.  
  
“And kicked the residents out.” Nanu quirked an eyebrow. “As far as we know, nobody’s been kidnapped. Or murdered.”  
  
“Hala, talk some sense into him!” Olivia said, turning towards him.  
  
The captains stayed out of it like children watching their parents fight. Even Molayne remained quiet. Nanu made a mental note of Molayne’s previous affiliation with the Skull boss. He’d mocked Molayne’s protectiveness of his cousin, but he didn’t miss that bit of information.  
  
Hala weighed his words carefully. “It seems as if Nanu is right,” he admitted. He met Nanu’s gaze. “What do you propose we do?”  
  
“Wait, Hala, you can’t seriously—” started Kiawe.  
  
Hala waved him into silence. A half-baked plan formed in Nanu’s head. _Kids, huh._  
  
“ _We_ do nothing,” Nanu said after a long minute, taking a sip of his stone-cold coffee. It tasted terrible. Before the others had a chance to speak, Nanu continued, “Ula’ula’s got a lot of feral Meowth. They find me. Way with animals, or some shit like that. Here’s the thing. Some Meowth could be the ugliest, scrappiest thing you’ve ever seen. Won’t let you touch ‘em or nothin’. I take ‘em and feed ‘em anyway. Yeah, they scrap and fight, tear up the furniture, shit on the floor.” Nanu paused for dramatic effect. "But they come back. Soon enough, I’ve got three curled up next to me, damned if I know how they got there.”  
  
Molayne sniffed. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
Nanu locked eyes with him. “Means you stay out of it. They’re on my island, which makes ‘em my responsibility.”  
  
Hala rubbed his chin. He paced the room, deep in thought. After a minute, he said, “It seems as if you’ve already made a decision.”  
  
“Mm.”  
  
“Without us,” interjected Molayne.  
  
Both kahunas ignored him. Hala walked over to Nanu, who stood from his chair. “What do you plan to do?”  
  
Nanu scratched at the inside of his ear. “Not obvious, huh? Let them have Po Town, contain ‘em. Place has got walls higher than anything, won’t be hard. I’ll move in, treat ‘em like Meowth. Chaperone. Something like that.”  
  
“What a stupid idea,” muttered Kiawe.  
  
Nanu gave him a bored look. “Stupid is as stupid does, kid.” He yawned, and looked around the room. The others were still staring at him. “Well, that’s all I came to say.”  
  
“Nanu—”  
  
“Didn’t hear a better idea,” he replied, shrugging. “Just don’t come sniffin’ around my island. I know what I’m doing.”  
  
Hala folded his arms over his chest. He frowned underneath his bushy mustache. “So you do.” The big man looked around at Olivia and the trial captains. Mallow and Acerola looked relieved, Sophocles was asleep, but the others were annoyed. “I think this calls an end to our meeting,” he said, sighing. “Nanu has made his choice. We must let him do what he feels is best.”  
  
Nothing more needed to be said. They all knew Nanu’s history as a cop, and as a former member of Interpol. He used to be the best of the best, or so Nanu let others believe. The young captains and Olivia began to file out, and soon they began to talk among themselves. Hala gave Nanu a clap on the shoulder before heading into his office. Molayne followed Sophocles out the door.  
  
Nanu grabbed his arm. “So, Guzma huh. You know him?”  
  
“Oh—no, no—forget I said anything. I’m not helping you get yourself killed,” Molayne said, his eyes widening.  
  
The old cop rolled his eyes. “Sounds like you’ve got something to hide,” he said. His grip tightened.  
  
Molayne winced and shot a worried glance at Sophocles, who stood in the doorway. “Soffy, I’ll be right there!” His voice nearly gained an octave. His cousin nodded, and the door closed after him. Once safely out of eyesight, Molayne struggled and tried to tug his arm out of Nanu’s hold. Nanu merely stared. Waited. Thirty seconds later, Molayne deflated like a week-old balloon. “You’re making a mistake,” he said. He slowly met Nanu’s unwavering gaze. “That’s all I’m going to say.”  
  
Nanu’s eyes narrowed. Kid was closed-off tighter than a virgin prude. Wasn’t lying, though. Definitely knew Guzma. Molayne’s stare grew bolder, less caring. A ghost of a grin—frantic? It definitely wasn’t natural—played at his lips. Nanu had seen enough.  
  
“Seems like it.” He released his hold on Molayne. The former captain rubbed his arm, nodded curtly at him, and left, leaving Nanu alone in Hala’s foyer. One and one didn’t make two.  
  
This was starting to look a lot like work.  
  
“Shit.”


End file.
